


We'll Always Have Paris

by Gerec



Series: Nothing But Movie AUs [3]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Bittersweet Ending, Casablanca AU, Love Triangles, M/M, Remy LeBeau cameo, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier disappears from Paris without a word, leaving Logan to start his new life alone. Six months later, in a tiny bar in the Canadian Rockies, Logan gets an unexpected visitor - a man he's tried very hard to forget.</p><p>A Casablanca AU, where Logan is Rick, Charles is Ilsa and Erik is the dashing Victor Lazslo.</p><p><b>*NEW CHAPTER*</b> - Erik's Point of View</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of all the dives, in all the towns, in all the world...

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a belated birthday gift for the lovely [Black_Betty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Betty/pseuds/Black_Betty). 
> 
> **CHINESE TRANSLATION AVAILABLE[HERE](http://www.movietvslash.com/thread-141729-1-1.html)**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan gets a visit from someone he never expected to see again.

Six months.

Six months since Logan hopped a plane and left Paris with an extra ticket in his pocket, discarded by the only man he’s ever trusted.

Six months since Charles Xavier disappeared without a trace.

\---

These days, he’s not an easy man to find.

The little dive bar he owns is in a town nobody’s heard of, in the Canadian Rockies just across the border from Montana. It’s about as far from cosmopolitan Paris as can be, a sleepy little hamlet catering to truckers and locals that don’t ask any questions - and want nothing more from Logan than he’s willing to give.

Sometimes, a mutant will come to stay for a few days or a week; those in need of a place to lay low until the ‘Network’ can relocate them someplace safe (if they’re young) or to another assignment (if they’re part of the ‘War’). One day it’s a girl that can steal your powers with a touch; another it’s a boy who can make ice from thin air. All of them arrive with a silver coin stamped with an ‘X’ and none with any news he wants to hear.

It’s not his war anymore. And he’s got nobody left to fight for.

\---

“I’m here to see Logan.”

Logan hears the voice through the thin walls of the back room, the space doubling as both storage and office in the tiny bar. It’s not a voice he expected to ever hear again and yet it’s the one that haunts his dreams. Repeating the same words over and over again, the last thing Charles said to him, the night…before.

_I want to go away with you, Logan._

_I love you._

It’s the middle of February and the wind is brutal, the entire town buried under layers of sleet and snow. There are few truckers traveling through today and only a couple of intrepid locals willing to brave the storm for a beer. So the place is practically empty when he walks out and takes in the two strangers bundled in heavy winter coats, one slumped over a stool against the bar, the other propping the first man upright.

“Ah, here he is now,” Remy says with a grin, waving him over. “This lovely gentleman was just asking for you.”

The Professor – _Charles_ – turns to greet him, the soft smile slipping away in the face of Logan’s stony glare. They stare at one another in silence for what seems like an eternity, before Charles takes a step closer, gloved hands clenched by his side.

“Logan, please. Erik and I need your help.”

\---

Remy shows Lehnsherr upstairs to Logan’s apartment, but not before the wounded man leans close and whispers in Charles’ ear, pulling him in for a long, possessive kiss. He looks on, throat tight and heart sore, as Charles watches Lehnsherr take halting steps up the stairs.

“He’s been shot,” Charles murmurs, eyes bright with worry, “three times. With rubber bullets. I thought…he almost didn’t make it.”

Logan snorts, ignoring the sharp look Charles sends his way. “So I guess he wasn’t dead after all?”

“No,” Charles answers, shaking his head and running this hand through his damp curls. “He wasn’t.”

\---

Charles follows him into the back room, stripping off his outer layers as Logan pours himself a shot of whiskey. He takes a drink, and then another, before turning to face his former – friend? lover? salvation? – fuck if he knows what Xavier is anymore, and growls, “Of all the dives, in all the towns, in all the world…why did you have to come _here_ , Chuck? And why did you bring _him_ here?”

“I’m sorry, Logan,” Charles answers, sounding so goddamn proper and contrite it makes his temper flare. “We needed a safe place for Erik to recuperate while we wait for Hank’s pick up, and yours was the closest.”

“And you thought you could just drop in here? Just like old times and expect me to help you? After everything you… _Fuck you_ , Xavier.”

“Logan, I--”

“Shut up,” he growls into Charles’ face, his height advantage making him loom large and threatening. “I’m going to ask the questions and you’re going to give me straight answers. I deserve the truth after what you did.”

“Alright,” Charles agrees, his eyes meeting Logan’s steadily and without a hint of unease. He knows that he doesn’t intimidate Charles in the slightest, his physical strength no match for the telepath’s own impressive powers. And yet a part of him still wants to hurt Charles for abandoning him; to make him feel the pain Logan felt when he realized that Charles had lied. That he’d never intended to leave the Network to build a life with Logan.

That he lied about loving him.

“We thought Lehnsherr was dead. When did you find out that he wasn’t?”

Charles sighs. “Only a few hours before I was supposed to meet you at the airport. Raven came with new intel that Erik was still alive and I…I _had_ to go.”

Logan shakes his head and snarls, “You could have _told_ me. I would have gone with you! Helped you! Did I mean nothing to you? Was everything a lie?”

“You wanted out, Logan,” Charles answers, “and I didn’t want to drag you back in. I thought with Erik gone that…he needs my help to win this war. This fight is ours – his and mine.”

“And you and me?”

“That wasn’t a lie,” Charles whispers, hands gentle as he cradles Logan’s face. “I _did_ want a life with you. I _do_ love you.”

The admission stings more than it soothes, the meaning obvious in Charles’ words. He may have feelings for Logan still but he will always belong with Lehnsherr, the two of them side by side, in love and in war.

And there’s no place in their grand destiny for Logan.

“You’ve got three days,” he says, forcing himself to turn away when he wants nothing more than to take Charles into his arms and kiss those perfect, red lips. “Three days and then I want you two gone. Understood?”

He slams the door behind him as he exits the room, not bothering to wait for an answer.


	2. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Logan have a conversation about Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested - more Casablanca AU! I believe we have 2 more to go; a flashback to Charles/Logan in Paris and than a goodbye between the former lovers.

Three days becomes four, becomes five and they’re still there, in Logan’s little hideaway. The storm is unexpected and harsh even for a Canadian winter, blowing great tracks across the highways and burying doors and windows in thick layers of white. He’s stuck with Xavier and Lehnsherr until it passes; the 150 kilometre drive to the nearest airport impossible in the current conditions.

Logan ignores his unwanted guests, and they in turn, stay well out of his way, keeping themselves secreted away on the second floor. Charles does try, the first couple of days, to engage him in conversation, bringing up mutual friends and their exploits, only to have his attempts rejected each and every time by a surly Logan. He does _not_ feel bad when his former lover deflates, eyes shadowed with sadness and regret. And he certainly doesn’t want to reach out and touch Charles, to pull him close and never let go.

He tells himself that he’s over Charles Xavier.

It gets to the point where he _almost_ believes it.

\---

Logan doesn’t see Lehnsherr at all until the fourth day of their stay, making his way carefully down the stairs behind a concerned Charles. It’s just the three of them together in what suddenly feels like a too tiny space; with the storm raging outside Logan has shut down the bar and sent Remy home.

The tension in the room is palpable; the mutual dislike between Logan and Lehnsherr stemming all the way back to the days when the three of them - along with Charles’ sister Raven – first started recruiting mutants and building the Network. And though his feelings for Charles came much later, their close friendship ignited resentment and jealousy from Lehnsherr. A situation mirrored by the rift that developed between Charles and Raven as she slowly pulled away from his influence, blossoming under Lehnsherr’s tutelage.

Logan turns his attention back to his work, cleaning and restocking the bar and pointedly ignoring his two guests as they walk by. Charles guides them to a table in the corner, watching with a careful eye as Lehnsherr eases himself into a chair before sitting next to him with a weary sigh.

He tunes out their chatter easily, focusing instead on the music he’s playing quietly over the bar’s speaker system. It’s a lot harder though to stop himself from looking over when Charles laughs, the sound drawing him back to long, languid nights in a tiny Paris apartment. 

It hurts like hell when Lehnsherr reaches over and cups Charles’ face with one hand, thumb gently caressing his cheek. He doesn’t recall ever seeing such open affection from Magneto in the past. The touch is light but the meaning is clear, and Logan has to wonder why Charles would indulge such an obvious show of possession.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in purgatory, Logan watches Charles pull away and head back upstairs, to fix them all a late lunch. He feels a keen sense of relief wash over him, uncertain how much longer he could have tolerated their closeness without losing his composure. He wants them _gone_ from his bar and from his life.

He wants to _forget_.

\---

“Can I get a scotch?”

Logan doesn’t answer, though he does pour the glass as requested, sliding it down to the end of the bar where Lehnsherr has migrated. 

“Five dollars.”

Erik frowns. “Don’t you have anything better?”

Logan snorts, taking a long drink of his own beer and answers, “Not that kind of bar.”

He turns away, signaling an end to the discussion, only for Lehnsherr to stop him in his tracks with the words, “How long?”

“What?”

“How long was it,” Lehnsherr asks, grimacing as he swallows, “after I ‘died’ before you got Charles in your bed?”

He bristles, even knowing that he’s being baited. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Isn’t it?” 

“No,” he growls, temper rising as Lehnsherr stares at him placidly over the rim of his glass. “You were dead. Killed on a mission you didn’t even tell Charles about! You took his sister and half the team and almost got _them_ killed too! So you don’t get to say a fucking thing about me and Charles.”

Lehnsherr smirks, and Logan has to hold himself back from punching the smug bastard in the face. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you? Even after he left you?” He leans forward, voice low as though the two men are sharing a secret. “You know, don’t you? That you’ll never be anything but a poor substitute.”

“ _I_ know that you’re a dangerous maniac and a fool,” he growls, “and that someday, you’re going to go too far and Charles will cut his losses for good.” He tosses the empty beer bottle in the sink and turns, making his way to the back room with a snarl. 

“And you owe me five dollars, asshole.”


	3. We'll always have Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Charles and Logan in Paris.

_2.5 years ago, Paris_

“Raven called again. She wants to see you.”

There’s no answer from the lump on the sofa, and Logan can’t honestly tell if Charles is ignoring him or passed out drunk. He shuts the front door behind him and makes his way inside the tiny flat, eyes adjusting slowly to the dim lighting. His foot catches the edge of an empty bottle of scotch, sending it careening across the hardwood, the crash echoing in the silent room.

“No,” is the response he gets, the voice low and scratchy. “I don’t want to see her.”

“Come on Chuck,” he says, “it’s been three months. You gotta talk to her. She’s worried ‘bout you.”

Charles snorts. “I’m sure she is. Too bad she didn’t give a fuck about me before.”

Logan just barely bites back a sigh, maneuvering around Charles to sit on the other end of the sofa by his feet. He hates this; hates that he feels the need to defend her for Charles’ sake when he’s not so sure himself that she deserves it.

“It’s not her fault, what happened to Erik,” he tries and Charles scoffs, kicking his blanket off to grab another bottle of scotch off the coffee table. “She tried; they all tried to get to him. You know she wouldn’t have left at all if Azazel hadn’t--”

“She made a choice and her choice was to lie to me!” Charles hollers, throwing the half empty bottle across the room, shattering it against the wall in a rain of liquid and glass. “She and Erik both, they kept me in the dark so I couldn’t interfere with their plans! And the bastard is dead, Logan! Dead! Because I wasn’t there! I could have saved him!”

Logan’s not sure that’s entirely true, as much as Charles is the most powerful telepath in the world. The machines Trask built took the others completely by surprise, Lehnsherr barely buying his team enough time to get away. Though perhaps if Charles and Logan had been there as well, along with Hank and Alex and Sean they could have made a difference. There may not have been so many serious injuries. And Lehnsherr might still be alive.

It’s a conversation they've had many times before, with his friend swinging erratically between bouts of guilt and rage. The pain from Lehnsherr’s death has Charles shutting himself away from the rest of the world, Logan the only one he lets close. Hank is probably the only other person Charles could have tolerated, though his help was sorely needed elsewhere after the disastrous mission.

“Alright Chuck,” he says, because he’s not going to change Charles’ mind. Not now and perhaps, not ever. “I’ll tell her.”

Charles ignores him, stumbling to the liquor cabinet for another bottle.

\---

Later that night, Charles climbs into his bed again. He’s slurring slightly and reeking of alcohol. Again.

“Chuck, come on. Let’s get you back to your own bed.” He knows this is wrong for both of them. Like it’s been wrong every single time since the first.

“Logan,” Charles whispers as he straddles him, grinding his hips against skin that’s already burning for more. “Please,” he murmurs, hand reaching to grip Logan’s cock, the strokes messy and perfect.

He groans when Charles leans down and kisses him, lips soft and moist and inviting. Clutches the firm flesh of Charles’ ass as he rolls them over on the bed, his breath hitching when Charles wraps his legs around Logan’s waist. Grunts when Charles all but shoves him inside, his passage already slick and open.

“Fuck me,” Charles orders and Logan obeys, the clench and searing heat driving all coherent thought from his mind. There’s only the feel of Charles’ body moving under his own; the way he moans and arches as Logan fucks him deep. The way he writhes and begs for more, words spilling from his lips as Logan spreads him wide and slams his cock inside, over and over and over…

“Yes,” he growls and comes, teeth clamping down hard on Charles’ neck, dragging a lusty moan from plush red lips.

Logan never says no to Charles Xavier. He doesn’t think that he can.

\---

_7 months ago, Paris_

“I think…I think I want to leave the Network.”

They’re back at the Paris safe house again, taking a much needed break between recruiting trips all over Europe and North Africa. It’s a place that Logan’s particularly fond of, for reasons he would never share with another soul, even the man curled comfortably in his arms, warm and sated.

Then again, he’s certain that Charles knows everything already, joined as they are these days in mind and in body.

He presses a kiss to Charles’ forehead, brushing a stray curl out of the way of those piercing blue eyes. “Do you?”

“I’ve been thinking of opening a school in Westchester, in my family’s old estate,” Charles answers, propping himself up on Logan’s chest with a wistful smile. “All these children we find, Logan, we just keep shifting them from safe house to safe house. Now that things have died down a bit with Trask…wouldn’t it be splendid if we could send them somewhere safe _and_ help them with their powers?”

Logan finds himself nodding before Charles has even stopped talking, his imagination doing much to fill in the gaps. A school and a sanctuary both for the lost kids abandoned at the first sign of their gifts. Or ones with parents who love them but don’t know how to help them. It’s a excellent idea and Charles is definitely the right person to make it happen.

And he can’t help but think of it too as an opportunity for the two of _them_. A home perhaps, to replace a life of wandering.

“A home,” Charles agrees, leaning close and pressing a kiss to Logan’s lips, soft and sweet. “Our home.”

“What about the others?”

Charles shrugs, flopping his head back down on Logan’s chest. “They’ll keep doing what they’re doing I’m sure. I haven’t been on a field mission since…well. Plus Hank is helping her. They’ll be fine.”

Logan ignores the way Charles’ voice goes tight and wounded at the peripheral mention of his sister. At least he no longer threatens to turn Logan’s mind to mush when Raven’s name inadvertently turns up in conversation.

Instead he asks, “When do you want to start?”

And Charles laughs, bright and happy, rolling on top of Logan with a teasing smirk. “Soon darling, very soon. In fact...I’d say as soon as you and I finish breaking in this bed.”


	4. Kiss me, as if it were the last time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Logan say goodbye.

Logan thinks about that day a lot - standing in the Departures area in Roissy with a bag in one hand and the bitter taste of rejection in his mouth.

He wonders if things would be different, if Charles had come to say goodbye. Had explained that Erik was alive and that he needed desperately to go find him. Wonders if the hurt would hurt _less_ if Charles had given him a choice; to help with Lehnsherr’s rescue or leave and start a new life alone.

Wonders if the feelings he has for Charles Xavier would be easier to leave behind, if Logan hadn’t been denied his closure.

Now, as he watches Charles slide into the rented SUV, smiling at Lehnsherr before pulling away from the curb – he knows.

It wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.

\---

“We’re leaving tomorrow, when the roads are clear.”

Charles is standing in the doorway, speaking softly into the dimly lit back room where Logan’s been sleeping these past few days. It’s very late – closer to morning by his estimation – the sound of Charles’ careful footsteps like thunder in the quiet stillness of a cold February night.

Logan ignores him, staying sprawled on the couch with his back turned as Charles makes his way across the room, stepping lightly around boxes and long discarded beer bottles. Pretends not to feel the heat of Charles’ body when he stops, close enough for Logan to roll over and yank him down and--

“Please,” Charles says, aware that Logan is wide awake, after tossing and turning for hours in his makeshift bed. “Won’t you look at me?”

“Go back to bed, Chuck,” he answers, a tired sigh tumbling from his mouth instead of the growl he’d intended. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

 _I’ve come to say goodbye_ , Logan hears, the words expected but no less crushing. He forces himself to stay perfectly still; not to flinch or scoff or _snarl_ at the warm brush of Charles’ mind against his, so achingly gentle and familiar. 

_I should have done this a long time ago._

“What? Say goodbye?” And now he _does_ let the resentment seep through; lets the simmering anger flood his thoughts and color his brisk retort. “No need. I got the message.”

A hand reaches for him, hesitant and light as it touches his shoulder, a gesture meant to sooth. Instead, the fingers burn like fire as they trail across naked skin, taunting him with hoarded memories. Of other late nights and early mornings like this one, their bodies spent and basking in the warm afterglow of release.

 _There are things I should have said_ , Charles shares as he slumps onto the floor beside the couch, resting his head against Logan’s blanket covered back. _I’m sorry…I was such a coward_.

“Doesn’t matter.” And he knows it’s the truth even as the denial falls too quickly and easily from his lips. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe not but I’d like a chance to explain. I owe you…the truth.”

The truth, Logan thinks, is something he already knows – has _always_ known. It’s the cold comfort that keeps him company in the harsh Canadian winter. The balm he mixes with alcohol to take away the sting.

 _There isn’t anything you can tell me_ , he sends, _that I don’t already know. You…and Lehnsherr, I get it. I’ve always understood, what he was…is…to you. Whatever we did or didn’t have, Chuck…happened because he wasn’t there._

Hank had called with the news of Erik’s rescue, three days after he left Paris. Had filled him in on the details of Lehnsherr’s capture and imprisonment by Trask after the botched mission, hidden away in a remote facility in Greenland. That Raven had discovered Erik’s whereabouts after months of dogged investigation, going to Charles only after she found concrete evidence that he was still alive.

Logan already knows why Charles left him that day.

And that for Charles, he’d never really _been_ a choice.

\---

“You’re wrong.”

Charles murmurs the words against Logan’s skin, hand fisted in the folds of his favorite old army blanket. It’s too much, having him so close after all these months apart, Charles’ scent and the weight of his presence completely overwhelming Logan’s senses. He shifts away without thinking, sitting up on the couch and swinging his feet to the floor, putting some much needed distance between them. 

“Logan?”

He sighs, rubbing his face with both hands before dropping his head back on the cushions. Better to look up at the chipped paint on the ceiling than the soft glint in Xavier’s eyes.

“Just…say what you have to say and go.”

 _Let me show you_ , Charles says, moving closer when Logan needs him farther away, pulling him forward until the two are face to face. 

_You’re not wrong about Erik_ , he continues, grasping Logan’s temple gently between his fingers. _But you’re wrong about you and me._

The world tilts sideways and Logan falls, no longer in his tiny bar in the Rockies, bracketing his former lover between his feet.

x

He’s Charles Xavier, six months ago, staring at pictures of Erik in a plastic prison, Raven watching him with muted impatience. The initial shock becomes breathless joy that Erik is _alive_ , before moving quickly to guilt and anger and sorrow. 

Guilt, because _Raven_ was the one to find him, when Charles had so easily given Erik up for dead when he was lost in the raid. 

Anger, at Trask for his treatment of Erik, using his gift to further the development of weapons against their people. 

Sorrow, for the time Charles and Erik were forced to spend apart. Time Erik spent waiting for Charles to come for him. Time Charles spent falling in love with someone else.

x

He’s Charles Xavier, getting in the car with Raven, telling himself that it’s better this way, letting Logan go without saying goodbye. Easier for Logan to forget and move on, if he hates Charles instead of loving him.

Pretends that his heart isn’t split in two, bleeding for the man waiting alone in a cell and the man waiting alone in an airport lounge. 

Pretends there isn’t the tiniest part of him that wants to get on the plane with Logan, leaving the hurts and the betrayals behind. 

x

He’s Charles Xavier and it’s four months ago and he and Erik are fighting again.

The relief and the elation of having Erik back has eased somewhat, enough to let old grievances surface. Charles is still angry about the fateful mission; that a disagreement in methods became reason enough for Erik to keep him in the dark. That Erik chose not to compromise; that his goals were more important than Charles’ trust.

Erik is angry that Charles stopped caring, pulling away from the Network and the War after his ‘death’. That he spent his days hiding instead of fighting, letting Raven lead the team in their place. And though Erik doesn’t admit that he knows, he’s furious and resentful of Charles’ relationship with Logan – hates and fears Logan’s presence in a heart that used to belong solely to him.

x 

He’s Charles Xavier and it’s five days ago and he’s staring at Logan’s back as the man storms out of the room. 

The realization hits him hard, leaving him winded.

He’s still in love with Logan and doesn’t know how to stop.

\---

There are hands in his hair and Charles is kissing him hard, both a plea and a demand for more. The weight of the body against his is so familiar, so _right_ , and Logan gives in without a thought, letting Charles Xavier close enough once again to ruin him while saving him.

“I’ve missed you. So much,” Charles breathes between every heated kiss, sounding desperate and wounded. “I wanted to stay with you. To build the School together. I just…I couldn’t...”

He stills, pulling away from Charles to look into eyes infinitely sad. “You couldn’t leave him. You didn’t want to.”

 _I love him_ , Charles answers, sliding onto the couch, curling next to Logan with his head on his chest. _But sometimes…I don’t think it’ll be enough_. 

_I’m not your consolation prize, Chuck_ , he sends, hand carding gently through Charles’ hair. _I don’t want this – being second best._

“It’s not like that! I—”

Logan kisses him again, a gentler, softer refrain to stop Charles’ denials. He knows this is all he can really have of the man in his arms; knows they both deserve better than to hold on to something that’s been over for months.

 _You’re not my consolation prize_ , Charles insists and Logan doesn’t try to interrupt this time; letting the confession wash over him with a shuddering sigh. _You’re my best friend. The man I trust. The only one I can count on to choose_ me… 

He doesn’t finish the thought, clinging tighter instead to Logan as they sit in the empty dark, watching the drifts outside the single frosted window. It’s a comfort that Logan has sorely missed, reminiscent of their short time together in Paris. Something he’s grateful to have again, if only for a few stolen hours.

_I don’t want to lose you, Logan. Your…friendship, means everything to me._

_You haven’t,_ he sends. _You won’t._

\---

_Will I see you again?_

_Are you still building a School?_

_Yes. Someday. Soon._

_Call me, Chuck, when it’s ready. I’ll be there._

\---

He wakes alone and wrapped in his blanket, lips warm with the lingering taste of goodbye.


	5. But what about us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got a request for a meme on tumblr to write something that already existed in a different POV, and the lovely Lachatblanche suggested Casablanca au! Which is why we have an entirely NEW chapter in this 'verse, about 1400 words when I was aiming originally for about 200-300 :D

“It’s a bad idea,” Erik says, trying not to grimace at the pain radiating from his shoulder and chest. “We can find a motel, hide out until McCoy can pick us up and get us out of here.”

He can already tell by the set of Charles’ jaw that his opinion is being duly ignored, those disapproving eyes never leaving the road as they speed along the almost empty highway. “You need a place to rest, somewhere with people we can both trust. Especially now, with the entire West Coast looking for you, Erik. We need to get to the nearest safe house.” 

Erik snorts, and leans back against the headrest. “You think we can still trust him, after all this time? He’s out, Charles. He’s got no reason to help us.”

The thin line of Charles’ lips and the way he’s clutching at the steering wheel, knuckles bone white, is enough to let Erik know that Charles doesn’t quite believe his own answer.  
  
“He’ll help us. I know he will.”

\----

It’s written all over Howlett’s face, his shock over seeing Charles quickly morphing into a quiet, stony rage. The tension in the tiny bar is stifling, and even if Erik hadn’t been told about their prior…involvement, there’s no way he could have missed making the connection _now_.

Logan takes in their presence without a word, Charles’ arms propping him up against the bar, Erik half slumped just from the exertion of moving to this spot from the SUV parked outside. An awkward silence drags on as the two face off over old grievances Erik doesn’t know – and doesn’t _want_ to know - as the bartender watches with wide eyes, his presence along with Erik’s ignored and forgotten.

He can tell by the way Charles stands, stiff and formal, fists clenched at his sides that he’s expecting a fight. But Erik can clearly see what Charles is too unsettled to acknowledge; that Howlett’s anger is tightly bound to a longing so painful it’s written all over his face, with feelings the man tells himself he shouldn’t have - _doesn’t_ have - for Charles anymore. That he’s torn between punching Charles in the face and grabbing him close, to hold on and never let go.

Erik knows exactly how that feels.

\----

He spends the first couple of days drifting in and out of sleep, his body in constant pain even with the drugs and Charles’ telepathy to help dull the sharp edges. It feels more than a little strange to be in Howlett’s space and sleeping in his bed, with the man hovering downstairs like a cranky bear with a thorn in his paw. Charles at least spends much of the time by his side - fixing meals in Howlett’s tiny kitchen; changing Erik’s bandages with gentle, careful hands; curling around Erik’s body and his mind as they drift off to sleep - safe, if not entirely content - in each other’s arms.

\----

The storm is still raging when Erik finally feels well enough to get up and out of bed, the need to _move_ overriding Charles’ concerns and the lingering ache in his wounds. They make their way downstairs to a table in the corner, and Erik pointedly ignores Howlett’s looming presence behind the bar.  It would be easier he thinks, if the bartender with the accent was still hanging around; as it is, with just the three of them shuttered in by a thick wall of snow, Erik feels trapped by their shared history, words unspoken choking the stale air.

They try to pass the time with stories and memories, about their friends and some of the newest mutants they’ve met through the Network. But it’s no longer an easy thing, talking to Charles, and hasn’t been since he came back, a wall of hurts and betrayals and divided loyalties that’s become almost insurmountable to climb.

It doesn’t help that Charles is clearly distracted, his attention split between lovers, old and new. He’s never liked Howlett or his close friendship with Charles; even less now that his fears have been justified, and the result is a heart that no longer belongs solely to Erik.

He wants to tear the metal from Howlett’s body, piece by excruciating piece.

Instead he reaches for Charles and brushes his cheek, drawing a genuine smile and a soft, warm chuckle. It eases some of the resentment building in his gut, dousing the flames of distrust and jealousy threatening to topple the tentative and fragile balance. He takes Charles’ hand and kisses his fingertips, making him laugh, and allows himself to be soothed by the love and affection that Charles sends his way.

He tells himself it’s enough.

\----

“You’re still in love with him, aren’t you? Even after he left you?” Erik says, the vicious satisfaction warming his gut at the way Logan recoils, as if he’s been hit with a metal crowbar in the face. He leans closer, a mockery of intimacy and taunts, “You know, don’t you? That you’ll never be anything but a poor substitute.”

Once upon a time, he and Logan had almost been friends, when they were all much younger and still believed they could change the world together. Now all he can see is Logan’s hands all over a willing Charles, kissing and fucking him and _taking Erik’s place_ , while he sat for two years in a plastic prison, waiting for a Charles that never comes for him.

“ _I_  know that you’re a dangerous maniac and a fool,” Logan growls, the veins in his forearms bulging as he clenches his fist around his beer bottle.  “And that someday, you’re going to go too far and Charles will cut his losses for good.”

The stinging retort dies abruptly in Erik’s throat, as Logan tosses a vague insult over his shoulder and walks away, slamming the door behind him as he retreats to the back room. He sits and finishes his cheap Scotch with a grimace, and doesn’t think too much on the fact that Howlett is probably right. 

\----

He wakes to an empty space in the bed, and an empty presence he’s grown used to in the back of his head. It’s still dark outside the frosted window, too late – or early yet – for anyone to attempt a trek outside in the freezing Canadian winter.

There’s only one place Charles can be, if he’s not beside Erik.

He reaches out with his senses and picks up the soft hum of Charles’ watch uncomfortably close to the metal in Logan’s body. Erik can’t _see_ , not like Charles can with his telepathy, but he can _feel_ the way the mechanisms in the watch move, up and around to rest on the back of Howlett’s neck, steady as Logan’s arms wrap themselves around Charles’ body.

Erik puts a clamp on his powers, and closes his eyes.

Much later – seconds, minutes, hours, Erik doesn’t know – the bed shifts, and Charles lies next to him with a soft sigh, fingers carding through the hair on the nape of his neck.

 _Everything alright?_ Erik sends, and Charles stiffens, before his telepathy unwinds and envelops him again, an embrace as tangible as the arm that wraps gently around his stomach.

_Everything’s fine, Darling. Go back to sleep._

_Did you--,_ Erik starts, but he yanks the question back with a snarl and throws it behind his shields. He ignores the twinge in his gut when Charles pretends not to notice, and instead asks simply, _Are you still leaving with me?_

It’s only a moment, the slightest hitch in Charles’ breath, before his lover soothes him with a kiss on the cheek. _Go to sleep, Erik. Only a few more hours before we have to leave to meet Hank._

 _Good,_ he answers, but there’s so much more to say, too much to put into words, and Erik doesn’t know how it’s come to _this_ between them; knows he’s to blame as much as Howlett in this mess. As much as Charles.

More.

_I…Charles, I need you. By my side. I love you._

_I know, Darling. I know. I love you too._

It’s enough for now, Erik thinks, as Charles lulls them back to sleep, their quiet breathing the only sounds he can hear in the pitch dark. It’s enough to have Charles beside him still, in his life as a lover and an equal; someone to fight by his side and fight for _Erik_ , as no one has since his parents died, a lifetime ago.

It’s enough, Erik thinks. It has to be.

And it is.

For now.

 


End file.
